The moon was smiling at him and he laughed back at it because it seemed so happy. At least one of them was happy, the laugh fell flat and sad in his throat, more like a half strained gurgle really, not a laugh. He sighed, he should go inside, take some Advil, go to bed, but the thought of his lonely, empty apartment made him want to cry all over again. No, no more crying, he took another fortifying sip of wine, the alcoholic warmth chasing away the winter's chill that fought its way under his coat. The bottle clinked next to the empty one at his side as he set it down.
He glanced down at his phone, at the text messages still open on the screen. The green and blue bubbles far too cheerful for the conversation they recorded. Snippets of hurtful paragraphs floated back through his brain.
"I'm leaving because I can't stand your whining for another second."
"I just needed somewhere to put my dick for a few months."
"Love you, please Castiel I don't even really like you."
And now he was crying again, he couldn't help it, he felt like such an idiot.
"Hey?" the voice was deep and rough, it drew Castiel out of his thoughts and made him sit up so fast his head was still tilted back when he got to the upright position. He forced it to go the right way on his neck so he could look at the speaker. Way up at the speaker. Damn, this guy was like forty feet tall.
"Are you okay?" the guy asked. He had a golden retriever on a leash, sitting patiently next to his side. It took him a second to realize he'd seen him before, or wait not him he'd seen his dog, being walked around by a hot guy in a leather jacket.
"Buddy? You okay?" the guy asked again. Castiel shook his head. The hottie must be this guy's boyfriend, wasn't that always the way? All the gorgeous ones were taken.
"Do you need some help?" the guy crouched down next to him, concern in his hazel eyes. Say something! Castiel's brain screamed at him, he's going to think you're nuts and call the cops!
"I'm fine, thank you." he tried to say, but what came out was. "M-fine."
"Are you sure?" the guys dog was sniffing at Castiel's shoe, he went to pat its head and tipped over a little too far, almost falling off the bench. A strong arm around his waist stopped him at the last second.
"Woah," Castiel was forcibly settled back in his seat, and now he really did laugh, because this was embarrassing enough to be a funny story someday and he hadn't laughed in so long. It felt good. The darkness was starting to eat in at the edges of his vision. He really should go home, he stumbled to his feet, or tried to, mostly he just stood up and pitched forwards. His face fell against a wall of plaid and then …..
….
He woke up in pain. So, much pain.
Oh, God why?
He was also sticky? Why was he sticky? Finding out was going to require opening his eyes, but his head wouldn't stop pounding and...
"Hey!" A hand was roughly shaking his shoulder. "Come on kid, wake up." He was on the couch; the ribbed pattern had stenciled itself to the back of his arm. Castiel's nose crinkled, something smelled terrible.
"Hey," He rolled over, the gruff voice belonged to a torso covered in engine grease. Castiel looked up and was somewhat surprised, to say the least, to be looking into the dog-walker's-boyfriend's green eyes. What was he doing in Castiel's apartment? Not that Castiel was complaining, but it was strange.
"Who are you?" Ol' Green Eye's frowned at him, "what are you doing on my couch?" His couch? Castiel was confused for a millisecond, then it all came rushing back.
Shit.
"Dean!" the dog walker appeared in the doorway looking guilty, "you're home early."
"Why is there a puke-covered kid on my couch Sammy?" Castiel made himself sit up, despite the fact that this made the room spin, his stomach flip-flopped feebly. Its contents already scattered in a chunky puddle across the couches surface. Castiel's hand went to the mysterious sticky patch on his cheek, it came away smeared with crumbly half-dried vomit. Well that explained the smell.
"He fainted on me in the park," Sammy said, "I couldn't just leave him, it's like four degrees outside."
"So you brought him here? What was wrong with the hospital?"
"He's underage and he looked like he was having a hard enough night without dealing with all that."
Castiel didn't want to cause any more trouble for Sammy, who had dragged his unconscious bulk who knew how far after he passed out last night…against Sammy's chest. Oh, Castiel wanted to die. He could feel his cheeks start to burn.
The other two men were arguing now, back and forth like a tennis match. He should go, right now, before he exploded from embarrassment.
He swung his legs to the floor and tried to stand, but ended up crashing to his knees, letting out a startled cry.
"What? Kid?...Dammit." strong arms lifted him off the floor and then he was floating down the hall, his face cushioned against a broad shoulder. They entered a bathroom and Castiel was placed on the edge of the bathtub. It was too bright to look up, but next thing he knew a cup was being forced into his sweaty hands.
"Drink that," Dean's voice ordered. Castiel obeyed without thought. The water tipping down his throat helped him feel ever so slightly human again.
Sammy had followed them into the bathroom, he and Dean started arguing again. Blah, blah blah "too nice for your own good." Yadda, yadda, yadda, "You've done worse things to the couch."
"I'm sorry about the couch," Castiel tried to say, it came out in a breathy squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again.
"I'm sorry about the couch." The other two men stopped their bickering to look at him. "I'll pay to have it dry cleaned."
"Damn right you will," Dean grumped, crossing his arms. Sammy knelt down next to him, now that Castiel got a closer look at him he realized he was close to his own age, about 18 or so. He seemed pretty young to be in a relationship with Dean, who had to be at least 31, 32? But, to each their own and who was he to judge, really?
"What's your name?" Sammy asked. Castiel shook himself out of his thoughts.
"Castiel," he told the tall man, rolling his water cup nervously between his hands.
"Why were you shit faced in the park Cassie?" Dean asked, glaring at him and Castiel glared right back, because yeah, he may have puked all over this man's living room, but only one person got to call him Cassie.
"It's Castiel," he informed him, "And it's none of your business." Dean glowered down at him.
"Watch the attitude kid," he growled, really, growled. "You made it my business when you pulled an Exorcist on my brother." Brother? Sammy didn't look like his brother, for one thing he was enormous and for another Dean was just so much…prettier.
"You two aren't going out?" he asked, and then wished he had a video camera so he could record the look on their faces. Dean absolute revulsion, Sammy confused mirth.
"No," Sammy laughed, thumping his brother on the shoulder, "I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean."
"Oh," Castiel hung his head again unsure why he was blushing. Dean's scowl deepened.
"Listen kid, do you live around here? Do we need to call your parents? I'm sure their worried about you."
Castiel shook his head, "I don't live with my parents." He put his hand against the wall and using it to support himself managed to stand up. His legs were still shaky but he could probably get out of here without Dean having to carry him again. "I should go."
"Let me help you get home." Sam offered. Castiel shook his head.
"Oh, no you've done too much for me already – ." he started to say, but was cut off by Sam's phone ringing.
"Hold that thought," the other boy said, holding up a finger. He pushed talk, pressing the phone to his ear. "Hey Jess," he gushed, his whole face lighting up. Dean rolled his eyes.
"Really!" Sam sounded super excited, "Oh my God, Jess you are the best! Yeah, yeah I'll be right there!" He hung up and beamed at his brother.
"She found the book?" Dean guessed.
"Yes!" Sam all but shouted, "She said it was hiding in a trunk in the attic, the professor is going to let me help translate!" Dean's face softened and he smiled indulgently.
"Go on, I'll make sure Slimer here gets home."
"Thanks Dean," Sam raced from the room, calling back over his shoulder, "Feel better Castiel!" The front door slammed and he was gone. Dean's scowl returned with a vengeance.
"I can really get home by myself." Castiel told him, but Dean shook his head and in one smooth motion had slung one of Castiel's arms around his shoulder and was helping him stagger down the hall. The smell of cold metal and bar soap pressed into Castiel's nose. The dog from last night watched them from its bed in the kitchen, thumping its tail once as they walked by.
"Sammy will kill me if he finds out I left you alone. Now where do you live?"
Castiel sighed, giving up protesting, "The Avalon Apartments. Apartment 6H."
Dean huffed a laugh, "Well looks like you're in luck kid. We're practically neighbors." They had made it out his front door and into the hallway at this point and Castiel saw he was right, this was a floor in his building alright. The fourth floor, if the signs on the doors were to be believed. Dean dragged him to the elevator. Once on six Castiel tried to insist that he could make it on his own from here but Dean would have none of it.
"You're a stubborn little guy aren't you?" he asked, stopping in front of Castiel's door.
"I'm not little, I'm 19." Castiel told him, fishing his keys out, which were thankfully still in his pocket.
Dean snorted, "Whatever, you say kid." The door swung open and the older man let out a curse. "You got robbed!"
Castiel laughed humorously, "No, my boyfriend just moved out, that's all." Dean helped him to the one remaining chair and sat him in it, frowning, "And took all of your stuff with him?" he asked. Castiel hung his head. He wanted to go back to sleep, maybe this time when he woke up it really would have all been a dream.
"Hey, fuck… kid… are you crying?" Dean's concerned face looked just like his brothers. Castiel raised a hand to his wet cheeks, trying to scrub away the tears with the edge of his sleeve.
"Sorry," he sobbed, "I'm fine. You can go now." Dean let out another curse and went to the fridge, rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for. He came back, pressing the bottle of Gatorade into Castiel's hands.
"You're dehydrated enough as it is," he explained when Castiel blinked tearfully up at him. He ran his hand through his hair, scuffing his foot awkwardly along the linoleum. Castiel tried to ebb the river pouring from his eyes but it was no use. His shoulders shook, his nose ran like a faucet, his head pounded and he wanted nothing more than to sink to the dirty floor, curl up into a little ball and weep, like the giant baby he was. If only Dean would leave, he'd be free to do just that, but apparently Dean had something against leaving crying boys alone in empty apartments. He just kept standing there, staring, with his stupidly gorgeous, green eyes all wide and pitying. Which of course made Castiel cry even harder.
"Fuck," Dean mumbled finally, crouching down next to him, "Come on kid, don't cry. It can't be that bad."
"I assure you it is that bad," Castiel sobbed, "But you can go. Don't let me stop you."
"I'm not leaving you alone like this." That made the tears slow down, if only a little bit, more out of surprise than anything. Castiel sniffed and twisted the cap on his Gatorade bottle.
"I came home and Fergus had left," Castiel heard himself saying, after a long minute. "No warning, no I-think-we-should-break-up talk, nothing. The apartment was empty and he was gone. I called, I got a text back saying that it was time for us to go our separate ways. I asked why, I thought we had been fine and- ." he choked on the next sentence, fumbling in his pocket for his phone, pulling up the text conversation. "Here, you can read it," If he tried to say the words that had been thrown at him out loud he was going to start sobbing again. Dean slowly scanned the conversation, his brow growing a deeper and deeper furrow the further down he scrolled.
"Jesus," he said, looking up once he'd reached the end, "What an ass." Castiel hiccupped a laugh.
"Yeah, but it was charming at first, you know. Like that this cool, older guy wanted anything to do with me?"
Dean's brow crinkled even further and he shook his head.
"No," he said, "I don't know."
Castiel frowned at him, unsure how to make him understand, "Well it was," he said lamely.
There was a long silence. Finally, Dean let out a sigh and stood up. Good, he was leaving, Castiel could go hide under his covers and never come out again.
"You're not going to off yourself if I leave you alone are you?" Dean asked, starting for the door. Castiel shook his head, not looking up.
"Good." The door opened and closed. When he looked up Dean had gone. Castiel managed to slide from his chair and crawl into the bedroom, where thankfully his four-poster still stood, mismatched patchwork quilt still balled up at the end of it. He discarded his vomit splattered clothes and crawled between the sheets in his underwear.
Life as a hermit, he'd read, was very spiritually fulfilling.
